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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873047">the miya thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrosas/pseuds/retrosas'>retrosas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study (ish), Gen, Post-Time Skip, Relationship Study, or during timeskip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:35:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrosas/pseuds/retrosas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"Don't 'ya ever wanna dye your hair again?"</p>
  <p>Osamu finishes up washing his hands and dries himself with a towel. He goes to Atsumu's fridge and takes out some of his leftover rice and goes on to make some food. "Like in high school?"</p>
  <p>"Yeah, the Miya thing we used to do. Ever think of doing it again?" </p>
</blockquote>Alternatively, how Atsumu comes to a realization about his relationship with Osamu thanks to hair dye.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu &amp; Miya Osamu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>MiyaTwins</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the miya thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>based on some stuff stuff I tweeted abt how what if it was the miya twins' "thing" to dye their hairs and how would atsumu take it when osamu stops dyeing his. </p><p>based on tweets  <a href="https://twitter.com/sagikaashi/status/1254670091624386560?s=19"> here </a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/sagikaashi/status/1254677598937837570?s=19"> here </a></p><p>currently editing on mobile so I can't assure that spacing and formatting will look okay on pc. will check asap on pc once my internet has stabilized!</p><p>here's your reminder to please stay at home and practice good hygiene and social distancing! hope yall enjoy?? sjkdsk</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Contrary to popular belief, Miya Atsumu does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> go to a hairdresser.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the influx of people copying the shade of blonde he dyes his hair with and the signature flip to the side, people began scouring for his hair and make up artists for his shoots. He's never given a name for them to hunt and credit, simply because there is no one to credit but himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that's kind of a lie. But the press and those volleyball announcers don't need to know that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The secret behind Miya Atsumu's hair is something he calls the "Miya Thing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Miya thing is a little secret; it's known only to him and to another Miya. It's a familial secret passed on generations and generations, and no non-Miya can know about it. Basically, he means it's Genetic ™. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Osamu finds out the ruckus his volleyball twin had created one day, he snorts and smudges a bit of hair dye onto his cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oi, 'samu, the fuck?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You really gonna go all that way to avoid telling people your twin dyes your hair, 'Tsumu?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu takes a bite from the tuna onigiri petulantly. "And give 'ya free advertising? No thanks."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They'll be coming there <em>for you</em> then they'll be staying for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don't need advertising to get my good food out, 'ya little shit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Whatever," Atsumu shrugs. "Are 'ya almost done yet? I'm running out of onigiri here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu clicks his tongue and checks over his dye job. "Just let it set then wash it off." He wiped his hand on the white shirt his twin wore, smudging dye all over the dried dye spots. Spots overlapped, and there's a smudge of brown under some of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu wriggles but doesn't smack his hand away. He watches Osamu make his way to his kitchen to wash the remaining dye off his hands. He commits to memory the scene of his twin's back, wearing a faded volleyball sponsored jersey of his that he lent him for the night before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sees a younger Osamu beside the one with dark hair. He sees Osamu with lighter hair, around half a head shorter, and a bit more wide eyed than he is now. His focus lingers on their heads in his mind's eye and he speaks: "Don't 'cha ever wanna dye your hair again?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu finishes up washing his hands and dries himself with a towel. He goes to Atsumu's fridge and takes out some of his leftover rice and goes on to make some food. "Like in high school?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, the Miya thing we used to do. Ever think of doing it again?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mmm." Osamu hums, turning on the stove and going through the pantry. "Sometimes, yeah. That brown did look pretty good on me rather than you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu didn't take the bait. "So?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why don't 'cha? Like you said, it looked good on you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu doesn't answer immediately. He goes off to break some eggs and beat them, then he pours them onto the oiled pan. He waits for the sizzling to simmer before he speaks again. "I fancy having healthy hair for most of my adulthood, just letting you know. You know how that dye and bleach and all ruins your hair and the hassle of maintaining it." He adjusts the heat. "I don't think I can commit to that kind of thing anymore with all the stuff I have to think about now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can always dye it for you, like 'ya do for me." Atsumu finishes his last onigiri. "I did a pretty good job in high school for it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, but it's not the same anymore, 'ya know?" Osamu has his back facing Atsumu, but Atsumu can see the small smile on his face. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes but fond nonetheless. "Things are different now. And our hairs show that." He chuckles to himself. "I thought you'd like standing out, with your blonde hair and my black one, you certainly will." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Atsumu stops talking. He thinks of how in that moment, Osamu looked like the older twin in all his glory of a small, wry smile and fond but far eyes. He sees the little scars on Osamu's hands from the times he tried out different knives and recipes; the calluses he gained from volleyball long overridden with time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn't until after Atsumu sees Osamu plating the omurice that he asks again, voice smaller and softer than he would've liked. "Don't 'cha wanna dye your hair again for the sake of the Miya thing? For old times sake?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu looks at him, smile gone and eyes wider than earlier. They stare at each other and Osamu snorts a little. Atsumu knows it's innocent, and he sees that knowing glint in the eyes that look too much like his. "Go wash up first before eating."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tch."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu goes into his bathroom, and immediately rinses his hair in the sink. He spends some time in there, running his hair through the dyed locks and removing any leftover from his face and ears. When he comes back out, Osamu's taken it upon himself to prepare some juice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu sees him and sits him down, then proceeds to dry his hair. Atsumu is silent when he speaks. "Just because I don't dye myself anymore don't mean it's not our thing anymore, idiot," he grumbles. His drying is slow and firm. "You made all that ruckus about your hair secrets and all but I'm the one dyeing your hair. It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> our thing. The Miya Thing. Just that I have healthy, black hair. Brown doesn't suit me anymore the way blonde does for you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu doesn't say anything, just hums the tune of the new series they watched together last night. He accepts the mirror Osamu later hands him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"See," Osamu grins from behind him, "Nice seein 'ya still got the miya thing going for ya."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde looks at his reflection and Osamu in the corner, his black hair visible without his trademark cap. he touches his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks of the days when their mom would buy large bottles of color protectant shampoo for them to share. He remembers all the towels they had stained blonde, black and brown, and those ruined with bleach. Then, his mind wanders and thinks of when they both wore the same black shirts lined with white, and how those days flew by faster than he expected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, their mother doesn't buy dye or shampoo anymore. Atsumu lives on his own, so buys his own medium sized color protective shampoo, and all his bath towels are stained only with bleach and blonde coloring. The black he wears is lined with gold, and he is the only Miya on court. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns around and faces Osamu, and thinks of him in his black work clothes and the white rice that's somehow always stuck on his apron. He notes how it's been so long since Osamu smelled like Salonpas; instead, Osamu tended to smell something like fish, rice, sweat and wine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is a lump in Atsumu's throat that he can't explain. He looks back at the mirror and fingers his hair. "Let's eat. I'm hungry." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits at the table and Osamu sets down their plates and drinks. They give their thanks and engage in their meal. Atsumu wolfs it down like he usually does, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Osamu grinning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The meal is gone in record time like it usually is, and Osamu goes on to wash the dishes. Atsumu cleans up his dyeing materials in the bathroom and when he comes back, Osamu is all packed up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll return your shirt next week. You'll be dropping by right?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, yeah. Next week's when you're gonna have that taste test."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I have a new menu I'm thinking of releasing, that, yes." Osamu groans. "Make sure you come after closing, okay? I don't wanna fend off fans of yours again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm telling you, just appreciate the advertising I'm giving here!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not when it breaks down my door!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other, brows furrowed and mouths in a frown. One of them growls but Atsumu isn't sure who. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hope your dye stains your pillowcase tonight."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hope your laundry gets mixed up later."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And ruin your shirt? Sure."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oi!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They growl again. Then, the spell is broken and they turn away from each other, snorting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't ruin your dye just yet. I paid for that this time and I don't want it going to waste." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu waved him off. "Yes, yes, I understand. Go now, I'm tired of seeing you here." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, bye." Osamu shrugs and turns around, lugging his duffel bag up his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu watches his brother go further and further away, his form growing smaller as he descends his apartment stairs. Osamu doesn't turn back to give him any wave or anything. He keeps going, his eyes set forward and straight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Osamu was no longer in sight, Atsumu went back inside. He sits on a chair and leans back, closing his eyes. He loses himself in the memory of their junior high and high school days, of days stained with brown and blonde. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits up and checks the kitchen again. He sees the plates all clean and drying, and he sees a note taped to the fridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eat them from the bottom up so they don't go bad. Finish within a week." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opens the fridge and sees one side stacked with Tupperwares and different meals, and Atsumu couldn't help but laugh and fall on his backside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs and laughs, shaking all the while. Then something crawls up his throat and he stops. He looks at the food and he fingers his hair, letting out a laugh again. He thinks of their fights at their childhood home, the food Osamu first made, and how after high school, he began seeing Osamu's roots grow out and overtake the brown. He thinks of shared water bottles and packed lunches and some stomach aches from mix and match recipes that didn't work out well in the end. Then, he thinks of youth, and how Osamu stands outside the court now yet with him all the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The apartment feels all large and tiny all at once, and all of a sudden, he's aware of how his two bedroom apartment seems too large for him and how maybe he should get bigger shampoo bottles again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The Miya thing... huh." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The following week, on the way to Osamu's place, Atsumu stops by a convenience store to get some snacks. Probably some alcohol too, because "'Samu only has cooking wine and customer wine, none of the good stuff." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before paying, he sees a box of cheap brown dye. He thinks of a face like his own framed with black hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(He remembers how it all started–two young teenagers, in a convenience store, deciding on a whim to buy similar boxes of dye before even asking their mom. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He remembers clearly all of a sudden, and is taken aback by the childish voices he hears:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Let's dye our hairs. It's gonna be our thing. A Miya Thing!") </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can help himself, he gets two boxes and shoves them in his tiny basket. He picks up a blonde one just in case. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm emo thinking abt hair dye sjkdks</p><p>I've been seeing tsumu portrayed as the snarky, bitchy twin and I wanted to try exploring the emotional side of him somehow esp after the timeskip and now that he and osamu have different paths in life. I hope I did it justice??? the twins r just so interesting to think abt esp their dynamics after timeskip aaaa</p><p>Ihope yall liked this! thanks for stopping by &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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